She Exhaled Stars
by bookaddict27
Summary: When Draco and Hermione's relationship ends in tragedy, Draco goes into hiding. "One word was all it took. He recognized the voice. It was her voice. " One shot.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter because I am not JK Rowling. That's probably why I'm writing fanfiction and not, you know, books.

**A/N:** So this is the first one-shot fanfic I've ever written. For a short story, it took me an insane amount of time. Perfectionism is not cool. Anyway... here it is!

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Draco was sitting against a tree, hidden within the shadows. The shadows always hid him. In a way, that was a good thing. He had so much to hide from. But then, he was sick of the darkness. He wanted to be visible. He wanted to be swallowed by light just for a second so that he could feel what it was like to be clean.

He could never be clean after all of the horrible things he had done. So many deaths rested on his shoulders. He wanted to forget them, but at the same time, he wanted to dwell on them. He wanted to soak himself in the pain of all he had done because the pain was what he deserved. After all, her death rested on his shoulders as well.

These days, he had to hide from everyone. He had to hide from the Order, of course, because of his reputation as a Death Eater. That was plenty of a good enough reason to hate him. Although he had never killed people directly, he had aided Voldemort. He was selfish and had done what he could to keep himself safe, regardless of its effect on other people. He had fully believed that he was too good too care. What were muggles and mudbloods and blood traitors in comparison to him, a pureblood? They were nothing. He was far superior. Well, that was what he had thought anyway.

That was in the past for him now, but he still had to hide from the Order. It was not as if he could expect them to forgive his past. And now, he had to hide from the Death Eaters as well. He had fallen in love with a mudblood. He winced as he thought the term. If that was not enough, he had also sworn off the Dark Lord. He wanted to change. Such things could not be tolerated.

"Hermione," he whispered her name to himself. It felt familiar on his tongue. How many times had he spoken it into her ear? For that matter, how many times had he spoken it to himself in the past year? He still remembered her as if he had seen her moments before. Regardless of how much time passed, how could he ever forget her? She had been the one to save him. She was the girl who inhaled ash and exhaled stars.

He still remembered the first time they saw each other after leaving Hogwarts. The encounter marked the beginning of a long string of coincidental meetings between the two of them. Draco had been wandering in Diagon Alley, lost in thought. He was not particularly paying attention where he was going and apparently neither was Hermione. They almost walked directly into each other.

Draco came to a stop right before they collided.

"Watch where you're going mudblood," Draco said scornfully.

"Why don't you, prick?" Hermione replied, annoyed.

"What are you even doing here?" Draco asked.

It was meant as an insult rather than an actual question, but Hermione took it upon herself to answer. "If you must know," she said with a scowl, "I was just buying books. I needed something new to read."

"Figures," Draco muttered.

"What about you?" she asked.

"Oh nothing," he answered lazily. He was actually purchasing various dark artifacts that his father had asked him to get, but he couldn't exactly tell her that. He could tell by her eyes that she knew he was hiding something. He prided himself in being a collected person, so it made him rather nervous.

"Well, bye Granger," he said, trying to leave before she said anything. "I don't know why I wasted breath on this conversation." He turned around and left but not before he saw the pensive look in her eyes.

It was a rather insubstantial memory, but it still stuck out to him. He laughed to himself, although it was a sad sort of laugh. Who knew that he would ever be sentimental over memories of Hermione of all people? After that occurrence they had somehow managed to run into one another again and again. It was almost as if fate destined that they meet. Of course, the insults never stopped, but somehow they grew into lengthy conversations. Draco confided in her, making confessions he never though he would make. He had no idea how it had happened.

Somehow, though, they had fallen in love. He loved her smile, her laugh, her eyes. He loved her ridiculous hair. He loved how she cared so much about things. He loved that she cared about him, even though he hardly deserved it. He even loved her slightly irritating habits and her occasionally bossy personality. All of it went together to form the girl that he loved. There was something about her that cut through his arrogance and actually made him care about someone other than himself. It was odd because he had never really cared about anyone else before.

It was Hermione who convinced him to change. She believed so adamantly in the nature of good. She somehow saw the good even in him. She saw things in him that he did not know were there. He had never believed that love could change a person, but after Hermione, he did.

He began to plan how he would leave Voldemort. He would leave the ranks of the Death Eaters. Maybe his betrayal could even be used to destroy them. He planned to go with Hermione, and, in time, she could have convinced the Order to accept him. Draco's plans were set in place, and he really thought he would be free. He didn't put his plans into motion fast enough, however.

The truth was that he never should have let Hermione stay with him. He knew that no one could find out about their love, or even their acquaintance. He knew what the consequences would be. He should have known people would find out eventually. After all, people have eyes, people talk, and words spread quickly.

Now Hermione was gone, killed for the mere act of loving him. Or more accurately, killed because he loved her. Killed because of him.

He might as well have murdered her himself. He might as well have been the one that held the wand that tortured her, the wand that caused the last of her blood to be slowly drained from her body. The result would have been the same.

He had been a murderer before and now he was a murderer again. He had murdered the girl who saved him.

When he arrived home that day, he was greeted by the sight of her dead body. She had been killed by his father's own hand.

"Take this as a lesson, son," Lucius said. "This is all that mudbloods are good for. You should thank me for freeing you of her filth." A crowd of Death Eaters surrounded him, laughing. They were all enjoying the spectacle.

For a moment, Draco stood paralyzed. He could feel himself blanching, the color draining from his features. He saw Hermione's body lying in a pool of her own blood. Her eyes were empty, but her face was still frozen in an expression of fear and pain. His emotions skipped from the immediate shock to simply numb. How could she be dead? She could not be dead. That must be someone else's body lying on the floor. It could not be Hermione. It could not possibly be Hermione. Hermione was still alive. She had to be.

He had to get out of there. He had to get away before he fell apart. He could not let them see how this hurt him. He could not fight back, not now, there were too many of them. He blocked out all thoughts of Hermione before he could lose his feeling of numbness and slid a cold mask of indifference over his face.

It was the sensible thing to do. But then he realized that he did not care. Hermione was gone. He had nothing left to lose. He could hardly remember the fight that followed because adrenaline had made the memory blurry. He had been fueled by Hermione's death. The fight was short-lived since he was outnumbered, but he got his revenge. The one thing that stood out in his memory was a flash of light shooting from his wand and hitting his father square in the chest. The next moment, Draco had turned on the spot and disapparated to an isolated place near Hogsmeade. He knew he would not come across any people there.

He could not get the sight of her bloodless body out of his mind. He realized that he would never again see her understanding eyes or her smile as she teased him. The shock was wearing off. She was really dead. He felt as if a pain-relieving spell was wearing off, a pain reliever as strong as muggle morphine. His vision began to blur, and he realized that the haze was a result of tears. _Malfoys do not cry_, he thought to himself. Then again, he wasn't really a Malfoy anymore, was he? Hermione deserved his tears. He let them run silently down his face in a quiet expression of grief. He sat there for a while, although he was not entirely sure for how long. It had probably been hours, but time has a way of being difficult to track, especially in the face of grief. Eventually, with a feeling of resignation, Draco made himself get up to leave. He could not stay; he was wanted in both worlds now, good and bad alike. He began to walk, and his year of travelling and hiding began.

Draco sat in silence as he continued to reminisce. That was really all he had done for the past year. He had run and tortured himself with memories. There was nothing else he could do. He could never go back to the wizarding world. Everyone was after him.

"Draco," a voice whispered in his ear.

One word was all it took. He recognized the voice. It was _her_ voice. He turned around sharply, but no one was there. He swore that he had seen someone out of the corner of his eye. A flash of bushy hair. But could it just be his imagination? After all, he had just been thinking about her.

"Let me save you," Hermione's voice whispered again, this time in his other ear.

He turned again quickly, hoping he could catch the source of the voice this time. There was no one there.

"I'm losing my mind," Draco said to himself.

"Maybe you are," her voice agreed. "But that doesn't change the fact that I'm here to help you."

"You can't be," Draco muttered. "You're dead."

"Yes," she said softly, sadly, "but you need to be saved."

Draco suddenly realized the truth of that statement. He had been in hiding since her death almost a year before. Her death had proved to him that he could no longer pretend to support Voldemort. He was now on the wanted list for two worlds. There was nowhere for him to run except away from everyone and everything.

"Why now?" he said, "Why not before? Things haven't changed much recently."

"I'm not supposed to interfere," she said. "The dead and the living are supposed to remain separate. But I finally convinced the others make an exception and allow me to talk to you," she continued. "It's a one time thing, you see.

"So you are real," he said sadly, "but you can't stay."

"No I can't," she said, "but you've known that from the moment you first heard my voice."

Draco had to admit that was true. It had only been a feeling, though, so he had hoped he was wrong. He was not.

After a moment of silent, Hermione spoke again. "I don't blame you, you know."

"For what?" Draco feigned ignorance.

"For my death," she said. "It wasn't your fault. I know you feel guilty. You think you were being selfish by being with me. Well, I wouldn't have had it any other way. Even if you had told me to leave, I wouldn't have gone."

"But they hurt you! They killed you because I loved you!"

"And they killed me because I loved you. It was two ways, Draco. It's not your fault. If anything, it's mine for getting caught." She sighed.

"What if I can't accept that?" Draco asked.

"You will in time. You just heard me say it myself, so eventually it's bound to sink in, even in a thick skull like yours," her voice took on a teasing tone, before she became serious again. "I have to give you one piece of advice before I go," she said. "Go to the Order. They'll take you."

"Yeah, right," Draco replied, laughing bitterly. "Why would they ever take me?"

"Because they trust me," she answered. "Tell them everything, and they'll understand. They may not like you, but they'll let you stay. And from there, you can help to bring about the fall of Voldemort."

Even in death, she knows me well, Draco realized. That was the one thing that would have convinced him to go to the Order. He could help overthrow Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Hermione's death had enforced his desire for Voldemort's downfall.

"I'll do it," he said quickly, before he could change his mind.

He could again sense her smile, although it was not visible.

"I only have a short period of time left," Hermione said. "Only a couple of minutes."

"Just don't leave yet," Draco said. "Can't I just see you? Please?" He made sure to hide the note of pleading in his voice. After all, Draco Malfoy did not beg.

"You can't," Hermione replied softly. "All I am now is a figment in the corner of your eye. If you turn to see me, I'll disappear. It's part of the rules."

Draco tried to keep the look of disappointment out of his eyes.

Suddenly, he noticed a dim light, steadily growing in strength. The light slowly morphed, and a form began to appear before him. Her feet appeared first as the light slowly moved upward, slowly ending in the formation of her head. It was a face he never thought he would see again.

"You just said I couldn't see you!" Draco said, shocked.

"Well, you couldn't before. There's a time limit on these types of things. But you can see me for these last few minutes," she paused to smile. "Call it a gift."

Still shocked, Draco couldn't even find it in him to make a sarcastic remark about Hermione's previous misleading comments. Instead, he slowly walked forward and raised his hand to her cheek, expecting it to go through. It did not. Her skin felt just as real as if she was still alive, standing before him. He caressed it gently.

"How?" he asked simply, although truthfully, he did not really care.

"There are some things about death that you cannot know, and I cannot tell you. Some things just are." She reached out and touched his face in a motion parallel to his own.

"Way to go all smart on me Granger," Draco said, his voice rough yet also light.

"Way to be an insolent git, Malfoy," Hermione replied with a smile.

He pulled her into a kiss. It was a kiss unlike any other, a kiss stretching the gap between life and death, between light and darkness. It was a kiss that healed. He could feel her lips, soft against his own. The world had fallen silent. It was only them. The only sound was that of their breathing. He could see her eyes, dark pools that spoke volumes, and he knew his gray eyes were saying the same thing. It was like their minds were connected. He could feel everything she was feeling, everything she could ever tell him. As the kiss deepened, they closed their eyes, lost in passion. He buried his hands in her hair and she buried her hands in his. He pulled her closer.

But suddenly the feeling stopped. There was no hair beneath his fingers, no lips on his own. There were no hands in his hair. He opened his eyes.

She was gone.

There was no evidence she had ever been there in the first place. She had disintegrated, vanished like dust in the wind. She had slipped through Draco's fingers like sand. She could no longer be felt, held, or seen. Had she even been there in the first place or had she been an illusion created by his desire to see her again? Then he realized the absurdity of that thought. Hermione had been as real as he himself. She still was real. Although he could not see her, he knew she was somewhere. She was watching him at a distance, in a place too far away for him to hear her. But he could still feel her. She was still there.

Hermione was a figment of a dream but also the solidity of a stone.

He would never forget her. After all, she was the girl who inhaled ash and exhaled stars. She could take the worst things and make them beautiful. That was what she had done to him.

It was silent again, no sound but that of the wind.

"I love you, Hermione Granger," he whispered, as his words were carried away.

A few moments later, he swore he could hear her voice softly reply, "I love you, too, Draco Malfoy," although she was no longer visible, even out of the corner of his eye.

"Goodbye," he said.

It was time for him to find the Order. Even after death, she had saved him again.

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**A/N**: And that ends my first one-shot. I know it was rather odd, but I really wanted to write it. Sorry if they seemed a little out of character, I really try to avoid that. I usually like when Hermione and Draco bicker more, but based on the context of the story, it just didn't work... Anyway, thanks for reading! Review and I'll love you forever haha =]


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